The Aramis Factor
by Aggie2011
Summary: D'Artagnan gets a lesson in being prepared for all the things a Musketeer must be ready for...including, it seems The Aramis Factor. Entry into March 2018 Fete des Mousquetaires Challenge *Darkness to Dawn Universe*


_Eek! Barely in time I hope! haha Here is my entry into this month's Fete des Mousquetaires by the skin of my teeth haha. Prompt was "Be Prepared" Thank you as always to my wonderful beta Arlothia!_

 _Ps. the boys don't belong to me!_

* * *

 _September 1630_

* * *

D'Artagnan nearly dove through the barn door to escape the rain. He shivered, shaking his head to rid his hair of as much water as he could. He crossed his arms over his chest to combat the chill in the air, made worse by his drenched state. He wiped his hair out of his eyes with a shaking hand as the others filed into the barn at a much less frenzied pace.

Aramis and Porthos both grinned at him, teasing in their eyes, as they removed their hats and stripped off their water-logged cloaks. Athos pulled the barn door closed against the storm raging outside, nearly losing a finger when the wind decided to lend its aid. The swordsman shook his hand slightly, clearly conscious of his near maiming, and turned.

"Didn't you pack a cloak?" Athos asked, untying his own and handing it off to Porthos. The larger man had Aramis' and his own cloak in hand as well and took them all over to the ladder that led to the hayloft, hanging them on the rungs to dry.

"The sun was shining when we left this morning!" d'Artagnan defended, shivering again.

"Ah! Another thing you must learn to be a good Musketeer: always be prepared," Aramis lectured, clapping d'Artagnan on the shoulder and sending water droplets spraying.

" _Another_ thing, of course," d'Artagnan replied, rolling his eyes and chuckling. Aramis had been taking great joy in listing off every little thing he thought d'Artagnan _must_ learn.

"'Mis is right," Porthos chimed in as he rejoined them, dropping onto a hay bale and pulling off his boots. Water poured out to form a little puddle on the ground as he tipped each of them upside down.

D'Artagnan, still chuckling, glanced at him.

"It's impossible to prepare for everything," d'Artagnan pointed out.

"Not for everything," Porthos replied. "Just three things."

D'Artagnan huffed a chuckle and glanced at Aramis. The marksman's eyes were lit with amused interest as he also waited for Porthos to go on.

Porthos held up one finger.

"Always have a cloak in case of rain."

He held up a second finger.

"Always have a backup plan for when something goes wrong with the first one."

D'Artagnan saw Aramis nod in earnest agreement. He had heard enough of their stories to know the famed Inseparables _often_ needed a backup plan. The other three all exchanged an amused glance, some shared memory recollected silently between them.

"And three?" d'Artagnan prompted.

Porthos grinned widely.

"Always be prepared for the Aramis Factor."

"Hey!" Aramis squawked, eyes widening in surprise. Then he turned to d'Artagnan. "That's not a thing."

"It is," Athos disagreed blandly.

" _Et tu_?" Aramis shot at Athos with a scowl. The swordsman merely shrugged, a half smile tugging at his lips.

"What's the Aramis Factor?" d'Artagnan wondered excitedly. It wasn't often that there appeared a source of teasing other than himself.

"There is no Aramis Factor!" Aramis defended, throwing up his hands helplessly.

"Of course there is!" Porthos corrected with a chuckle. "Athos and I discuss it all the time. Even Treville knows about it."

" _Even Treville_ …" Aramis shook his head and snatched at d'Artagnan's shoulder. "This is not a thing."

"Perhaps if we explained..." Athos interjected calmly.

"Please do!" d'Artagnan responded gleefully.

"Please _don't_!" Aramis added a breath later.

Porthos settled back on his hay bale, a smug smile on his face, and propped himself up on his elbow.

"The Aramis Factor is the certainty that our marksman will _always_ discover the most reckless thing to do in any given situation and then proceed to do it."

Aramis pressed a hand to his chest, mouth open in disbelief.

" _Mentiras_ ," _(Lies,)_ he challenged with a gasp.

"He's speaking Spanish; you've upset him," Athos observed dryly, a teasing smirk curling up the corner of his mouth.

"I'm not upset!" Aramis snapped. "I'm just shocked you both think me nothing but a reckless child."

Porthos' immediate look of wide-eyed apology wasn't surprising. Even in d'Artagnan's limited experience with them, he knew Porthos was the last person on earth who would truly wish to hurt Aramis in any way.

"That's not…" Porthos shook his head sharply and sat up, meeting Aramis' gaze earnestly. "You _are_ reckless, 'Mis. But only in the best way."

Aramis' brow arched doubtfully. d'Artagnan looked back and forth between them and then at Athos for clarification. The swordsman sighed and dropped down onto the bale of hay next to Porthos'.

"You better tell the story, Porthos," Athos suggested, producing a small bottle of wine from somewhere on his person.

"Sit down, 'Mis," Porthos urged, stretching to snag Aramis' wrist and pull him down onto the hay bale next to him. "Listen to the story and you'll understand."

D'Artagnan, conscious of his still drenched form, retrieved a bucket from near the door and flipped it over, dropping down onto it so he didn't have to sit on the floor.

"Now," Porthos settled back once again, "I'm not nearly as dramatic in my storytelling as Aramis, but I'll do my best. Athos and I discovered the Aramis Factor many years ago…"

* * *

 _Summer 1625_

* * *

Porthos peeked around the boulder they were using as cover, only to jerk back when bits of rock exploded with the impact of a musket ball.

"He's good," Aramis admired with a smirk, gaze focused on loading his musket.

"You sound impressed," Athos mused from his place on Aramis' other side.

"Real skill with a musket isn't exactly common place, you know," Aramis reminded, finishing with his gun and hefting it up to sight down the barrel.

"Is he as good as you?" Porthos wondered, only half joking.

Aramis rolled his eyes.

"Porthos, please," he huffed, turning to rest his musket against the boulder.

Porthos grinned, reassured, and watched Aramis' gaze skim the area around them. He snatched at Aramis' doublet when the marksman leaned up to look over the edge of the boulder. As expected, the boulder exploded in front of his face as Porthos yanked him back down.

Aramis chuckled and Porthos exchanged a dubious glance with Athos.

"Something funny?" Porthos demanded.

"He _is_ good...but _really_ , I would have hit at least _one_ of us by now."

Porthos shook his head, bemused, and watched Aramis rest his hand on the musket again.

"So I've got a plan…"

"Do you?" Athos wondered dryly, brow arched.

"You aren't going to like it…" Aramis admitted.

"Why isn't that surprising?" Porthos growled.

"So I'm not going to tell you what it is," Aramis finished quickly before snatching up his musket and rushing away from the cover of the boulder.

Porthos and Athos both shouted incoherently and reached after him, only to drop back quickly when a shot cracked across the forest. The ball bit harmlessly into the trunk of a tree mere inches from Aramis' head as the marksman sprinted away, weaving through the trees as if he'd been born in these woods.

"What in the bloody hell is he doing?" Porthos snapped, stretching to try and catch a glimpse of where Aramis had gone. Another musket ball bit into the boulder behind him. "And how the bloody hell is that bastard reloading so quickly!"

"I don't think he's alone," Athos theorized, checking his pistol.

For a moment they just sat in silence. But Porthos struggled to hold his peace.

"Does he just expect us to wait here?" he grumbled.

Athos twitched a shoulder in reply.

Another shot broke the silence of the woods, but it wasn't aimed at them. Porthos shot up from his cover, eyes searching. He could only _just_ see their enemy, but the man was looking off to the west. Another man lay unmoving next to him while a third was busily reloading a musket.

"Should we…" Athos trailed off when movement in the distance caught their eye.

Aramis dropped suddenly out of a tree, one of his pistols flashing with the small explosion of gunfire.

The man loading the musket crumpled.

Porthos vaulted from behind the boulder, Athos on his heels, and tore through the trees towards the remaining shooter even as he fired towards where they'd last seen Aramis.

Porthos shouted in fury because even Aramis, with all his lithe quickness, was bound to run out of luck soon. The shooter was already swiftly reloading his musket even as Porthos bore down on him. Porthos was still too far away to do anything about it when the man brought the musket up to aim right at him.

"Get down!" Athos shouted, slamming hard into Porthos' back.

Two shots exploded through the air at nearly the same time.

The ball skipped along the edge of Porthos' pauldron as he fell. As soon as he hit the forest floor, he pushed up, eyes searching. The shooter was still standing, but the musket was destroyed in his hands - a ball having ripped through it.

Porthos watched him throw it down and snatch up the musket from his dead comrade's hands. He looked it over, and apparently found it readied, because he brought it up to bear - aiming west once again.

But in a blink, Aramis was there, shoving a hand against the barrel as it fired to send the shot wide and driving his main gauche up through the man's chin. He pulled it free sharply and stalked towards them.

"What were you doing? You nearly got yourselves killed!"

"What were _we_ doing?!" Porthos growled, leaping to his feet. "What were _WE_ doing? What were _you_ doing?! Running off on your own without a word!"

"I told you I had a plan!" Aramis defended. "It would have worked if you hadn't drawn his fire! I had to spend my third shot on keeping him from killing _you_!"

Porthos opened his mouth to shout something back, but Athos' quiet voice cut him off.

"Are you shot?"

Porthos blinked, looking first at Athos and then swinging his gaze sharply back to Aramis. He saw it then, the spreading dark stain on his upper right arm.

The anger stirring in his gut gained a new kind of strength as worry coiled in around it. He strode forward, intent on examining the wound. But Aramis turned, defending his wounded limb and holding out a calming hand.

"It's not bad."

"It's _bleeding_. That's bad enough," Porthos growled.

"You shot his musket to deflect the shot...after being shot yourself," Athos summarized as he followed Porthos with a calmer gait.

"Well I couldn't let him shoot either of you!" Aramis defended. "At that range he wouldn't have missed."

Porthos shook his head in astonishment.

"You realize he _did_ shoot _you._ "

"Yes, well…" Aramis shrugged dismissively.

Porthos rolled his eyes.

" _Next time_ , no runnin' off without telling us your plan. Or _I'll_ shoot you."

* * *

 _Present_

* * *

"And so you can see clearly that while Aramis _does_ tend to do the most reckless thing possible...it usually also happens to also be the most selfless thing too," Porthos finished with a warm grin at the marksman who was looking away at some spot on the floor.

When Aramis didn't immediately react, Porthos lightly kicked at him. D'Artagnan watched quietly as the marksman finally met Porthos' gaze.

"It was never a bad thing, 'Mis. A _frustrating_ thing. A _worrying_ thing. But never a bad thing."

"And we say to be prepared for it not because it's wrong, but because you're absolutely terrible at looking after yourself. So we've resolved to always be prepared to do that for you," Athos added.

"The Aramis Factor," d'Artagnan stated suddenly, drawing all three of their gazes.

Moments flashed through his mind, things he hadn't noticed at the time that now seemed so clear. Aramis throwing himself over the queen at the châtelet, protecting her without a thought for his own safety. Aramis shooting Marsac, a man he'd claimed as a once-brother, to protect Treville, no matter the cost to himself for making such a choice. Aramis instinctively surging forward to defend Porthos when Charon tried to stab him in the back, looking unrepentant despite the glare Porthos had sent him for it. Aramis going off on his own to protect baby Henry. And so many more moments peppered throughout the time he'd known him. Moments of selfless recklessness.

"I think perhaps I already knew what that was," d'Artagnan admitted with a grin at Aramis, who rolled his eyes in mock exasperation.

"Fine," Aramis allowed. "But you must admit, your lives would all be terribly boring without me."

"I think _peaceful_ is a better word," Athos corrected with a smirk.

"Less stressful," Porthos suggested.

"A bit quieter," d'Artagnan added, grinning wider when Aramis kicked out at him playfully.

"You don't get a vote, your uniform is still too shiny for me to take you seriously."

D'Artagnan scoffed in offense.

"Yeah, we'll have to scuff it up a bit for him," Porthos jumped in, wasting no time in redirecting his teasing from Aramis back to the usual target - d'Artagnan.

"Just because I take pride in my appearance…" he started to defend himself.

"I happen to take _great_ pride in my appearance," Aramis interrupted. He glanced at Porthos, "It's something I'm known for."

Porthos nodded earnestly.

"I've heard it said."

D'Artagnan shook his head in bemusement as the two continued to chatter away, throwing out the odd teasing comment at d'Artagnan's expense. Athos leaned forward, offering him the wine bottle.

"A fourth thing to be prepared for," the swordsman advised lowly. "Those two to gang up together and turn any given conversation or situation on its head at a moment's notice."

Thinking back over his time with them, d'Artagnan realized he likely should have already known that, too.

* * *

 _The end!_

 _Short and sweet. Hope you enjoyed!_


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